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 "He died uttering the words, 'Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.' He was seventy-two years of age when he died, and had reigned forty-six years.

"One hundred and eighty years after his death, Otho III., at the close of the tenth century, opened his tomb in the chapel he had built at Aix-la-Chapelle, and found him seated on his throne, sceptre in hand, his crown on his skull, and his royal mantle clinging to his shoulder, as so finely portrayed by Gustave Doré; and two hundred years later Frederick Barbarossa found his bones in the same position."

Sound, good bones were those; eloquent of the vigor and stanch material of which this great German giant was made and of the right life he led; doing wonderful good in the world with such light as he had.

A thousand years ago a young English King was scarcely on the throne till he was plunged into unceasing war with the Danes. Beaten; hiding in a cowherd's hut; letting the cakes burn while the Danes held England, he was soon again on duty; beat them, and was once more king. He fortified the coast; reorganized the army and navy; spent a third of his income on the army; built a fleet; won a naval victory; destroyed the Danish fleet; took some of their ships; built others twice as long, with more oars, steadier and swifter, and swept the coast of pirates. Turning to the arts of peace, he made new laws; established trial by jury; cut the land up into shires; fostered commerce and foreign exploration; invited learned men from all quarters; endowed seminaries; restored, if not founded, Oxford University. And the tough old sea-dogs gave him no rest till fifty-six times, by sea and land, he whipped them, so that then they stayed whipped.

Dr. Lord says of him: "A man whom everybody loved; a saint; a poet; a warrior; and a statesman; he ruled a little kingdom, but he left a great name. Second only to Charlemagne among the civilizers of his people and men in the Middle Ages